Allon, “which has been sometimes preferred for Defoe, really pertains to Bunyan.  Defoe may claim the parentage of a species, but Bunyan is the creator of the genus.”  As the parent of fictitious biography it is that Bunyan has charmed the world.  On its vivid interest as a story, its universal interest and lasting vitality rest.  “Other allegorises,” writes Lord Macaulay, “have shown great ingenuity, but no other allegorist has ever been able to touch the heart, and to make its abstractions objects of terror, of pity, and of love.”  Whatever its deficiencies, literary and religious, may be; if we find incongruities in the narrative, and are not insensible to some grave theological deficiencies; if we are unable without qualification to accept Coleridge’s dictum that it is “incomparably the best ’Summa Theologiae Evangelicae’ ever produced by a writer not miraculously inspired;” even if, with Hallam, we consider its “excellencies great indeed, but not of the highest order,” and deem it “a little over-praised,” the fact of its universal popularity with readers of all classes and of all orders of intellect remains, and gives this book a unique distinction.  “I have,” says Dr. Arnold, when reading it after a long interval, “always been struck by its piety.  I am now struck equally or even more by its profound wisdom.  It seems to be a complete reflexion of Scripture.”  And to turn to a critic of very different character, Dean Swift:  “I have been better entertained and more improved,” writes that cynical pessimist, “by a few pages of this book than by a long discourse on the will and intellect.”  The favourite of our childhood, as “the most perfect and complex of fairy tales, so human and intelligible,” read, as Hallam says, “at an age when the spiritual meaning is either little perceived or little regarded,” the “Pilgrim’s Progress” becomes the chosen companion of our later years, perused with ever fresh appreciation of its teaching, and enjoyment of its native genius; “the interpreter of life to all who are perplexed with its problems, and the practical guide and solace of all who need counsel and sympathy.”

The secret of this universal acceptableness of “The Pilgrim’s Progress” lies in the breadth of its religious sympathies.  Rigid Puritan as Bunyan was, no book is more completely free from sectarian narrowness.  Its reach is as wide as Christianity itself, and it takes hold of every human heart because it is so intensely human.  No apology is needed for presenting Mr. Froude’s eloquent panegyric:  “The Pilgrim, though in Puritan dress, is a genuine man.  His experience is so truly human experience that Christians of every persuasion can identify themselves with him; and even those who regard Christianity itself as but a natural outgrowth of the conscience and intellect, and yet desire to live nobly and make the best of themselves, can recognize familiar footprints in every step of Christian’s journey.  Thus ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress’